Why Olympians Can't Have Nice Things
by BetweenLines55
Summary: Apollo decides his little brother works too much. A night in the town is a perfect solution, right? Hermes figures out its unwise to do anything Apollo wants to do. Rated for language and mentions of adult themes, no sex sorry. I don't even know anymore, guys. For haybarry82, I hope this crap means something to you.


**So, um...I don't exactly know what it this is. Yeah, this is what happens when HayBarry82 and I start brainstorming, so...**

**It's based off my head cannon where Apollo and Hermes are bros, and c'mon, they'd be awesome little shits together.**

"Do ya even do anything fun anymore, Herms? Ya used to be real fun, and now you're practically as bad as 'Thena."

Hermes didn't especially know why Apollo had dropped by, but it was probably because he was just bored. Maybe the sky got uninteresting after a while, but, in the several millennia that Hermes had known the other god, he'd always had the attention span of a hellhound puppy. Even so, the trickster god did his best to ignore his 'big brother', who was currently making himself at home the desk Hermes was trying to fill out paper work on; Apollo's denim clad ass kept getting in the way of Hermes's writing arm.

"Apollo, can you come back later? I've got work to do. There are twenty seven missed calls from Persephone saying her order of rose bouquets was shipped late, the Fates haven't been answering my messages on whether or not they need new sheers and the queen of the gods has literally sent me three billion emails on getting 70 peacock ice sculptures for the Spring Equinox Ball next week."

_Make that three billion and one_, hissed George, who was wrapped around what was currently his caduceus. He was smacked on his head by Martha's tail and told to be quiet.

"Fuck 'em," Apollo said with his usual grace. He hopped off the desk and bent down so he was right in Hemes's face. The younger god was almost blinded by the older's diamond white teeth, "Babe, you're getting gray hair. Ya've stopped doing fun shit with me since ya got up and invented the Internet. Remember when we used to go to bars and pick up chicks? Remember that time we went to Vegas and had that manage trois with those Hungarian lingerie models?"

Oh he remembered all right. It had been fun, and then the real world kicked in and his hours working for Father and being an Olympian sized postman quadrupled with the help of the Internet and everyone wanting everything super fast and effective. It had been a blast at the time, for millennia, pranking people and pissing them off with his big brother, but he couldn't just stop doing his job. He had shit to do, unlike Apollo who got to go around driving the fucking sun chariot and chatting up women, and Hades, even men sometimes when he was feeling friskier than usual.

"I do _not_ have gray hair." Hermes said, shoving Apollo's face away. Apollo just chuckled, damn him, and pulled out a strand of his younger brother's hair, which, Hermes loathed to admit, was looking a little more silver than normal.

Having had enough, Hermes grabbed George and Martha and stalked out of his office and into the main part of the apartment he kept in Manhattan. Apollo followed, still laughing as Hermes grumpily poured himself his 47th cup of coffee that day in the little kitchenette, which was also overflowing with order forms and other paperwork. He might have had a bit of an addiction, to coffee and work.

"C'mon, baby bro, you need a night on the town, and surer that shit, you need to get laid. When was the last time you got some?"

Hermes looked down into the black liquid in his cup and mumbled, "A year or so."

"What?" Apollo asked, mock confusion coming through his voice, even though Hermes knew Apollo knew what he'd said.

"A year or so, ok!?" Hermes yelled. Clucking his tongue, Apollo just shook his head, "You poor, poor, baby. My poor baby brother, denied the awesomeness that is sex. You're gonna get some tonight, whether you like it or not, all right?"

He had to admit, a night out with Apollo, just doing _guy_ things sounded great, and more exciting then going through his three billion and one emails from his step-mother about _ice sculptures_. But...

"I just can't stop working Apollo. How are Hephaestus's new prototypes going to get to Athena at Harvard? Father has a business meeting I need to be there for in an hour, and I-"

"Look, babe, Dad likes me, ok? And I can't handle Athena and Heph, and whoever else this happens to piss off. You need to start living again, bro. What good is immortality if you don't even do anything with it?"

He did have a point. And when Apollo had a point...well, he was the god of truth.

"I guess...one night couldn't hurt." Hermes finally said, and set down his coffee cup. Apollo jumped and whooped, pumping a fist in the air, "Aw yeah, bros night out!"

Apollo grabbed Hermes's hand and dragged him to the bedroom of the New York apartment, which was more of a shoe box, really. Hermes was plopped on the bed as Apollo threw the closet door wide open and began rummaging around. "Dude, do you have anything other than work clothes?"

Hermes sighed, "I don't have a lot of vacation time, Apollo."

The sun god's reply of, "Thank fucking _sucks_, man," was slightly muffled by the clothes. Finally, Apollo withdrew and threw Hermes a pair of jeans ("Ugh, these are so loose." "Not everyone likes their pants painted on them, Apollo."), a red shirt, a striped sweater and his gold basketball shoes, one of his favorite pairs.

"Get dressed," Apollo ordered, and whisked Hermes into the bathroom down the hall to get changed. When he'd just finished pulling the sweater over his head, Apollo yelled from down the hall, "And remember, I'm not picking up chicks with a thirty-five year old with gray hair."

Hermes rolled his eyes, but made himself look twenty anyways, all the while mumbling, "I don't fucking have gray hair."

When the younger god stepped out of the bathroom, he was met with Apollo waiting for him out in the hall, wearing tight-ass pants, a tight white shirt, and a leather jacket. A dazzling smile was on his face like always, especially as he jangled the car keys to the sun chariot. "You look great, babe!" Apollo said. Hermes rolled his eyes, there had actually been a time when he was more immature than Apollo, and now the tides had turned.

"Lemme get George and Martha and then-" Hermes made to push past Apollo, but the sun god stopped him with a hand to his chest, "No can do, baby bro, that would be called taking your work with you, and tonight is all about fun. BesidesIlockedtheminyourcloset."

"You what!?" Hermes yelled as Apollo started dragging him out of the apartment and into the elevator, the one with all the mirrors that always smelled like the high-end boutiques on 5th Ave.

"Nothing!"

.

.

.

He didn't know where Apollo was taking them. All he knew was that he was "in this swanky car, and you're hanging out with the hottest god ever to go get piss drunk and pick up some hot chicks," as Apollo, the forever poet, so eloquently put.

The early spring night was cool, and the polluted Manhattan air only added to the adrenaline that was coursing through Hermes's body. He hadn't been this out of touch with the world in a while, never content to watch the neon lights of the city streak past as the wind whipped through his hair because the top of the Maserati was down. They hadn't gone anywhere yet and he already felt relaxed and like he was having fun.

Apollo made some complicated turns and they ended up in a part of the city even Hermes wasn't familiar with. He must've looked shocked because Apollo just looked at him and chuckled again, asking of he'd actually managed to surprised him. Hermes wiped the look off his face, and didn't give Apollo the answer he wanted, but merely jumped out of the now parked car.

They ended up in front of what looked like a bar, but obviously meant for the immortal world, considering the bouncer was a Cyclopes. "Now remember," Apollo said, whispering, as they walked up to the door of the bar, "I'm a son of Apollo and you're a son of Hermes. I'm Fred and you're Hank, got it?"

"For the thousandth time, yes."

The bouncer took one look at them, and let them in. Inside the bar, the air was warm, and most of the decorations were spoils of war, some fresher looking than others. Wood paneling decorated most of the place, Hermes noticed, as Apollo dragged him to the back where the bar and copious amounts of alcohol were. The bartender had some sort of monster blood in its veins, as she(?) had two sets of arms, and a dark complexion from the neck up, the rest was green scales.

"Well hey there, suga'. What can I get you and your friend there, Freddie?" The woman said, placing a martini mixer on the bar. Hermes was roughly pushed onto a bar stool as Apollo announced, "No sissy girly drinks for us tonight, Trudy. Shots if you please, and keep 'em coming."

A shot was placed on the bar in front of Hermes, and he easily knocked it back. Apollo had a few himself before saying he was going to go "mingle", or gods knew what else. His older brother slapped his back and very loudly told Trudy to get his friend laid. Trudy had just laughed, this weird breathy noise, and gave Hermes another shot.

He'd probably knocked back four or five shots (it took a lot to get a god drunk, especially Olympians) when a slim woman with skin slightly tinged green, probably from chloroform, saddled up to him. The woman was in a silky brown dress that slid down one of her shoulders, and the irises of her eyes were the same dirt brown. She was gorgeous, not that Hermes was surprised, nymphs tended to be.

"You're definitely knew, handsome. What's your name?" The nymph situated herself on the barstool next to him and helped herself to wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hank, sweetheart, but whatever you wanna call me is fine by me," Hermes said, borrowing a line from his big brother. He didn't even know why women found that line attractive, but it worked. The nymph giggled and pulled him closer.

"I'm Melia," was her introduction, before her tongue was down his throat.

He was perfectly happy in letting this escalate and inviting Melia somewhere dark and quiet for a nightcap, but of course the Fates were probably getting back at him for not sending them sheers, because all of a sudden Trudy was swearing from behind the bar and now Hermes could hear a news feed being piped through a TV.

_"This just in, Lord Hermes has been reported missing when he stopped answering messages from his apartment in Manhattan this evening just after sunset. His current place of residence was found empty. Lords Zeus and Poseidon have issued out a team of highly trained hit-Cyclopes to find Lord Hermes and off his kidnapper. Lord Hermes was last seen in Manhattan. Any information on his whereabouts can been reported to the Iris-911 hotline. And now, the weather-"_

Hermes pulled away from Melia so fast she was still kissing the air as he hastily excused himself and ran father back into the bar like, well, Hermes, in search of Apollo.

.

.

.

Apollo had been getting friendly (read: considerably more naked when Hermes had last seen him) with a pair of gorgeous women, who were obviously twins. Both had long honey-blonde hair and bright green eyes and possessed the kind of curves that Hermes knew Apollo liked. Speaking of his brother, he was piss-drunk, laughing and slurring with his new-found friends.

"Freddie, we've got a problem." Hermes ground out. Apollo tore himself away from a lip lock with one of them to give him a hazy smile, "_Haaaank_, baby, I thought I told you t'get _laid_, man."

"Fred, there's a problem I need to talk to you about. In _private_."

"N'awe, _Hannnkkk_, no, have some fun. Meet Adara and Agata, they're _twins_, Hank, ain't it just _great_. Come get...pfft, _Hanky-panky_ with us. Hahaha!"

Okay, Apollo was _really_ pissed.

Hermes grabbed Apollo's hands and pulled him up, since his jacket and shirt had been discarded somewhere and prompty slapped him across the face. That brought focus right back into his brother's eyes, "Shit, man! What the Hades!?"

"Look, idiot," Hermes said quietly so Adara and Agata, who kept giving the two of them bedroom eyes, couldn't hear them, "I've been reported missing on Olympian TV, and now there's a squad of hit-Cyclopes out to save me and kill my kidnapper, which guess who, happens to be you. So if you don't get be back home so I can call in through my caduceus, guess what happens?"

Apollo's eyes widened, comprehension dawning on his face, "Oh man, I'm gonna get shot."

"Yes, so car, now!" Hermes yelled, and Apollo was suddenly straightening his pants and grabbing his shirt and jacket, saying he was ever so sorry to his almost-companions for the night and half running out the door while struggling to put his shirt over his head. Apollo was a very graceful person.

The bouncer gave them a weird look as they ran out of the bar and jumped into Apollo's car. The sun god practically all but jammed the keys into the ignition and almost killed both of them, if they could be killed, when pulling onto the main road. "_Shit, shit, shit_." Apollo was saying over and over again, flipping to one of the Olympian news channels that the sun chariot received. "_No other details on Lord Hermes's whereabouts have been reported, but four teams of Cyclopes have been dispatched._"

"THIS IS WHY I WANTED TO BRING MY CADUCEUS!" Hermes yelled over the wind whipping through the convertible. Apollo just frowned and then looked into one of the rear view mirrors, his eyes widening, "Fuck, is that what I think-"

Turning in his seat, Hermes saw what Apollo was talking about. A hummer, seemingly invisible to the rest of Manhattan's population, filled with Cyclopes warriors, was coming right at them. Bows, swords, and spears were drawn, and what even looked like a gun or two.

"There's a rocket launcher under the seat." Apollo said in a deadpan sort of calm.

"Why the fuck do you have a rocket launcher in the sun chariot!?"

"You never know when you'll need one!"

"I don't wanna kill them!"

"Do you want to be immortally injured then!?"

"Fuck it! Fine!"

The rocket launder was surpringsly easy enough to fine, and once aimed, he shot, and watched the rocket hit the hummer with dead on aim. "Nice shot," Apollo said mildly like this was a normal thing. The radio buzzed to life again, "_This just in, one of the teams dispatched has been blown up, by what appeared to be a rocket launcher._"

"And you wonder why I don't do anything with you anymore?" Hermes said, and shot Apollo a look. Apollo just rolled his eyes, but managed to pull into a space in front of Hermes's building. They teleported, because fuck it, it saved time, and Zeus was going to be so fucking angry when he found out and great, where the Hades are the keys?

Apollo kicked down the door ("What? It saves time, c'mon!") and pushed Hermes inside, who protested weakly, saying, "You're totally fixing that." The two raced to the bedroom tripping over each other and falling to the floor as Apollo ripped the chair jammed in front of the closet door, and Hermes grabbed his caduceus.

_Hey, bossss_, Martha said, _took you long enough to get ussss out of there._

_There weren't any ratsss_, said George.

"Guys. Cell phone mode, _now_."

_Can we get a pleasseee?_ Both asked.

"Please, _now_."

George and Martha shrunk down to cell phone mode, which Hermes quickly flipped open, and hit 1 one speed dial. The call picked up on the first ring, and an irate Father came over the wire, "_Where have you been, Hermes?_"

"The signal went out, sorry, it was a problem on my end. It's fixed now, though." Hermes said. Apollo shot him a thumbs-up from his sprawled out position on the bed. "_Don't let it happen again._" Zeus said. "I promise." There was a pause on Father's end, and then, "Speaking_ of missing gods, do you know what happened to Apollo? I can't seem to locate him."_

"He helped me fix the signal, Father." After a bit more polite conversation, Hermes hung up and collapsed half on top of Apollo, who reached down and ruffled his hair. Hermes politely flipped him off. Laughing, the sun god just said, "Well, guess we're not doing that again anytime soon, huh?"

Hermes opened his mouth to make some rude and snooty comeback, but George cut him off.

_Uh, would this be a good time to tell you you've got 543 missed callssss?_

"Fuck."

**Yeah, I told you, it's just...yeah. Leave a review for this if you want, at this point, I don't even know anymore. I'm sorry. Something actually sensical might be posted soon, idk. **


End file.
